


Chiaroscuro

by Raufnir



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M, NO rape, No Incest, Persephone Has Agency, additional tags to follow i think, and demeter is not hades' sister, and isn't very good with emotions, best bro hephaestus, but he tries, but she loves her mother dearly too, hades is a shy bean, hades is also rubbish at self care, hephaestus deserves so much better, hephaestus is a babe and i adore him, her father is not mentioned, i'm doing that thing in the tags now aren't I? sorry, persephone is a grown woman fed up with being treated like a child, persephone's father is not mentioned, retelling of the myth, though a lot of the gods will refer to each other as 'brother' or 'sister', to be updated - Freeform, zeus is not persephone's father in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2019-09-20 04:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17015757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raufnir/pseuds/Raufnir
Summary: Just another sweet retelling of the Hades and Persephone story, in which Persephone is a young goddess trying to find her place in the world, and Hades is the lonely Lord of the Underworld, dedicated to his duties and his doggo, slowly giving more of himself to his duties and slowly wasting away... When Demeter is ordered by Zeus to bring her daughter, Kore, to Olympus for the festivities of Hephaestus and Aphrodite's wedding, the Corn-Mother is naturally anxious. Persephone steals a few moments to herself and wanders the vast palace complex, where she stumbles upon Hades who had also been seeking solitude amid the revelry. The two spark up a conversation, and neither is quite the same afterwards...





	1. A meeting in the shade of Olympus

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into the world of Greek Mythology, and I hope you like it! I intend to continue it as soon as I get a moment. Thanks to my friends on Patreon who gave this a read, and seemed keen for more Hades and Persephone content.

_Iris blossoms too she picked, and hyacinth._

_And the narcissus, which was grown as a lure for the flower-faced girl_

_by Gaia [Earth]. All according to the plans of Zeus. She [Gaia] was doing a favor for the one who receives many guests [Hades]._

                                                                                [Hymn to Demeter, Homer](http://www.uh.edu/~cldue/texts/demeter.html).

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dirt beneath her palms, sun-warmed earth beneath her back, endless blue sky above, and the soft rush of the breezes in the grass: the world lay spread out before and beneath Kore, and she drank it all in like nectar. Why would she need the ambrosia that the Olympians gorged themselves on when she had all this right here? What more could there be than the peace of this moment? A tiny flower curled on a vine between her fingers, and she glanced down at it, a gentle smile curling her full lips. The earth just came to life around her, budding and blossoming in the sunshine of Eleusis.

With a wistful sigh, she sat up, and almost immediately flattened herself back down into the long grasses at the sight of her mother approaching from the house, hands cupped to her lips, calling for her. “Oh just give me another few hours to myself,” she grumbled to herself, ostentatiously puffing a strand of her long, wavy, red-gold hair out of her eyes and pulling a face.

Constantly surrounded by nymphs and other divine attendants of her mother, Kore rarely had a moment of peace and quiet to herself, stealing it here and there where she could, like a swallow snatching sleep on the wing.

“Kore! Where are you? Kore!”

With another groan, she sat up again and ran a hand through the loose waves of hair that tumbled freely down her back. “Here, mother,” she said resignedly, waving at her without standing.

The golden haired goddess striding through the meadow of wild flowers and tall grass went visibly slack with relief at the sight of her. “There you are! Why are you hiding all alone out here? Where are the others?”

“I needed to be alone for a while, mother,” she said.

“Well, get up. I need to speak with you, my darling.”

Kore cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow, standing slowly. “What is it?”

Demeter took her beloved daughter by the hand and practically tugged her off her feet. “Zeus is holding a feast in honour of your cousin’s wedding,” she growled, towing Kore along like a thrown rider with their foot still caught in the stirrup of a galloping horse.

“Mother, slow down!” Kore complained, trying to twist her wrist free of her mother’s fingers. “Ouch, you’re hurting me!”

Demeter instantly released her, and lowered her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just…” She broke off with a grunt of disgust and rolled her eyes.

“Why? What’s wrong? Why would a wedding upset you? Wouldn’t you be happy for them?” Kore asked in a rush as her mother set off again, back towards their modest house. “It’s Phae, isn’t it.”

“Happy?” she snorted, half turning to look at her daughter as though the young goddess had utterly taken leave of her senses. “It’s _wrong_ , that’s why!”

“I know you’re hardly the greatest supporter of men,” Kore began, but her mother cut her off.

“It’s not even about that!” she hissed. “And Hephaestus is a good soul. I’m not too proud to admit that my _distaste_ for the behaviour of men does not extend to him, and several others too, it should be stated. In fact, in this case, it is Hephaestus I feel for! That little hussy will bring him nothing but pain, you mark my words. The wedding feast will hardly be over before Aphrodite is tangled up in Ares’ sheets, leaving poor Hephaestus to lament his lot. _Again_. Zeus truly is a cruel bastard to allow this to take place.”

Ignoring the insult to the Lord of Thunder, Kore thought of the last time she had seen the god all the mortals called the ‘lame’ or the ‘crippled’. She had asked her mother to take her to her cousin’s workshop, having heard fascinating tales of the wonders he had wrought for gods and heroes alike, as well as the automata and the wheeled chair he had apparently built himself to make life a bit easier in his forge. Eventually her mother had agreed to take her to visit her cousin.

He had boomed with laughter as her face lit up at the mechanical flowers he brought out to show her, and his lively assistant, Cedalion, had even done a special bronze pour just for her while she was there. Hephaestus had eased himself into a chair, his face twisting briefly with pain, and while Kore, captivated, had watched the casting from a safe distance, the god of the forge had spoken quietly with her mother.

Before they left, Hephaestus had gifted her with a bronze hair comb from the pour that they had done that day, and she had never forgotten her older cousin’s gentle kindness. She couldn’t understand why his own mother had been disgusted by him, casting him out at birth and flinging him down from Olympus for the mere deformity to his leg. To her, the musicality of his lilting gait was like the rhythm of the forge itself - the rocking hammer blows of Cedalion and Hephaestus working together to sledge three great bars of twisted steel into one forge-welded blade. The thought of him being trapped in an unhappy marriage with a wife who didn’t love him suddenly struck her deeply, and her mother looked down at her, sliding her warm fingers beneath her daughter’s chin.

“You see now,” she said softly, “Why I cannot give my blessing to their union?”

“But you still have to attend the wedding, don’t you?” Kore asked as the two women resumed a more sedate pace towards the house.

Demeter gave a deep sigh, and the whole valley exhaled with her, the wind whispering and rushing through the tall grasses, making them shiver and dance. “Not just me, my dear. Zeus has commanded that you attend as well.”

Kore’s eyes lit up. “You mean I finally get to go to Olympus at last?” she exclaimed, all thought of Hephaestus’ unhappy marriage forgotten in the face of her excitement.

“Indeed,” Demeter said flatly. “Though I still maintain you are far too young to be exposed to the likes of Apollo and Hermes and the rest of them. I will have your ladies in waiting accompany you as chaperones at all times, and Artemis and Athena have agreed to watch over you as well.”

Kore’s elation vanished like a pricked bubble. As much as she cared for her cousins and enjoyed their visits to Eleusis, she got the feeling that the festivities would not be quite as fun as she had imagined with them walling her in the whole time. _No one_ would talk to her with prickly Athena and feisty Artemis flanking her like bodyguards.

“Don’t give me that face,” her mother intoned. “It’s for your own good, and I’m sure you’ll have more than enough fun. Your cousins and you used to be so close. But, you are of age now, and I know full well what any one of those men would do to you if they found you unattended. Add to that the ambrosia and nectar that will undoubtedly be flowing, and, well,” she shuddered and a few of the stalks of grass at her feet withered and died, a chill and unseasonable frost creeping up their stalks like a shadow.

“Oh _sure_ ,” she replied sarcastically. “I’m _sure_ I’ll enjoy the feast, that is if I can see past the clouds of attending nymphs. You can’t keep me from experiencing everything forever, mother,” she hissed and stalked away towards the house, brambles growing in thick knots in her wake, erupting from the warm, rich soil like leviathans from the deep.

Demeter didn’t follow immediately, watching the young goddess storm away from her, and feeling her heart swell with fear. She had always known the day would come when she could no longer protect the headstrong child from her own impulsive nature, but she would do all she could to protect her from the heartless whims of the gods who dwelt on Olympus. With a snarl and a gesture, she ripped up the brambles and sent them scattering to the wind as dust and leaves, and followed after her daughter as the sun began to sink towards the distant mountains.

Kore stood alone in her small bedroom, resting her fingertips on the windowsill that gazed out over the sea to the south. Caught between the giddy days of girlhood and the altogether steadier years of womanhood, she sighed. “It’s not fair,” she whispered to the soft, papery blue flowers of the climbing plant outside her window. “I’ll never become goddess of anything if she keeps this up.”

Turning away from the brilliant sunlight, she flopped down on her soft bed and let her mind wander.

The heat and noise of Hephaestus’ workshop drifted back into her memory.

_She crossed the room and gazed at the pieces of a helmet which sat on a workbench, awaiting the return of the master craftsman’s attention. “What’s this?” she asked, turning to look back over her shoulder at where her older cousin and her mother still spoke softly to one another._

_The god of the forge looked up at her question and her mother immediately snapped, “Don’t touch that, Kore!”_

_“I’m not,” she fired back. “I’m not_ stupid _, mother. I only asked what it was.”_

_“She’s alright. Leave her be, Aunt Demeter,” Hephaestus had chuckled, levering himself awkwardly to his feet and grabbing a simply-carved walking staff. He limped over to her, his damaged leg buckling and twisting slightly beneath his muscular weight with each step, and when he saw what she was gazing at, he laughed all over again. “That, dear cousin,” he said, “Is going to be one of my finest creations. Well, ‘adaptations’ really. It’s Hades’ helm…” he paused, clearly seeing if she knew of it._

_Her eyes had gone wide and she’d whipped back around to stare at the deceptively ordinary looking helmet. “You mean the one that makes him invisible?”_

_Hephaestus nodded. “Indeed. He’s asked me to make some alterations and repairs to it. He tells me that he let Hermes borrow it recently, and the fool damaged it so that now it only hides Hades’ head, which is frankly hilarious if you ask me. Can you imagine the god of the Underworld, dread Hades, walking around with no head!” he broke off into a wheezing laugh that drew Persephone’s lips back into a cheek-dimpling smile too._

_The forgemaster had slapped his thigh with mirth and explained in loving detail how he was going to weave his unique magic into the restored helm, and she had listened, enthralled to every word._

 

Hephaestus deserved laughter in his life. The ingenious craftsman deserved companionship and respect, not ridicule and cuckolding, which, if her mother was to be believed, would happen mere hours after the sacred ceremony.

Disgusted, Persephone almost vowed then and there never to accept the advances of another. Still, she looked forward to the ceremony, and her first visit to Olympus.

When the day came, her mother looked at the red-gold curls which fell past her daughter’s shoulders in loose waves, plaited and pinned back off her face to reveal her sun-browned, freckled skin, rosy cheeks, and wide green eyes. “My darling,” she crooned, hard blue eyes sparkling like river-washed sapphires. “You look radiant.”

“The nymphs worked their magic on me, I suppose,” she laughed, twirling the green peplos of a young woman. “Ready?” The heady fragrance of gardenias wafted down around her as she moved, and she smiled. She’d always loved them.

“Ready to go back up there? Never,” her mother said dryly, taking her daughter’s hand, leading her outside.

Standing in the meadow in front of the house, she gathered the waiting nymphs to her and gesticulated in a wide, sweeping motion with her free hand. A shimmering disturbed the air, like heat haze on a dusty summer road, and the steps of Olympus opened up before them. “Come,” she said, and drew their attendants closer to them with a look.

Together, the small party stepped through the gateway and instantly Kore felt the difference between the hot, salty air of the seaside meadows and the cool, vibrant mountain air of Olympus. There was a different energy to this place too, and it almost made her dizzy to breathe it all in.

“Steady,” Demeter murmured. “This place can get to you - all this power.”

Nodding vaguely, Kore marvelled at the carved and gilt marble columns and the endless, verdant gardens. The plants which grew here were larger and older by far than any she had seen on earth, and as she gazed in wonder at them, she caught the sound of gentle, chiming music which seemed to pervade the whole place, like dawn birdsong in an ancient copse.

The sound of revelry drifted down from the upper chambers of the vast complex of temple-like structures, and as they entered the open courtyard at the top of the white marble steps, they discovered that the festivities had already begun. Mortified that they were so late, Kore looked to her mother, but Demeter merely stared coldly at the scene before them. She even shook her head in disgust as Dionysus gave a wild, ululating cry and tugged one of his maenads into a frenetic dance, his crown of ivy and vines heavy with grapes slipping sideways into his handsome, youthful face.

Kore had never seen such wild abandon, not even when the mortals in the village nearby to their sacred home got drunk and threw themselves into joyful revelries. Standing not far from the dancing and cavorting figures, wreathed in glory, was Zeus himself, his storm-grey hair neatly coiffed, and his piercing sky blue eyes every bit as fierce and intimidating as she recalled from the last time she’d seen him on a rare visit to Eleusis. Beside him stood a thoroughly unimpressed looking Hera, talking to mighty Poseidon. Hera acknowledged her sister’s and niece’s arrival with a nod and simply returned to her conversation as though there had been no distraction.

Seated near a table groaning with food and drink, sat the couple in whose honour this entire feast had been dreamt up.

The instant that Hephaestus saw them enter, his face lit up with joy. “Demeter! Kore!” he grinned, beckoning them over and half standing. He swayed, winced, and clearly thought better of it, and it became immediately obvious that he was more than halfway to drunk.

Aphrodite, with her smoky dark eyes and low-cut dress, watched them approach, mother and daughter dodging dancers and revellers as gracefully as they could, but she did not greet them with any particular warmth.

“C’mere!” Hephaestus roared as they halted at a polite distance, gesticulating wildly at Kore, so she came over to him and he did lurch to his feet and sweep her up into a fond and familiar hug. “It’s been too long, dear cousin!” he said as he half crushed her in his massive arms. “You look radiant!”

Peeking just past his shoulder, she noticed Zeus guffawing into his chalice, and beside him on the other side, she caught a glimpse of a tall, thoroughly unimpressed looking figure. He was utterly unlike anyone she had ever seen: wraith thin, wreathed in black, with deathly, stone-grey skin.

Goosebumps shivered across her sun-browned skin, and she gave a little shudder. It felt as though a cloud had passed over the sun at the sight of this mysterious figure. Once released from the blacksmith’s tight embrace which had made her ribs creak, she tried to forget the one who had made her skin crawl, and politely wished Aphrodite and her new husband every happiness. Hephaestus beamed like a lovestruck youth at his new wife, and Demeter made a disgusted sound beside Kore.

Kore said her dutiful greetings to Zeus and Hera – with no sign of the mysterious figure she had so briefly seen – and briefly introduced herself to Poseidon, before Demeter took her by the hand and led her over to the side of the room.

A shriek and a laugh was all the warning Kore got before Artemis hurled herself at the younger goddess, doing almost as much damage as the huge smith had with her embrace. “Oh it’s been so long, cousin!” she cried. “I have missed you! Athena, come over here!” and at her cry, a more sedate figure approached, though her expression was no less warm than her sister’s.

“It is good to see you again,” she said, offering her an altogether more gentle hug. “And you have grown even more beautiful in the meantime, sister,” she said. Athena had always called her ‘sister’ out of sheer fondness, and it made Kore’s heart soar to be called so again, here on Mount Olympus itself.

“I missed you both, too,” she said. “Come, tell me everything that has happened to you since you last came to Eleusis.”

Artemis took her cousin by the hand, winked at Demeter, and yanked her away to a quieter part of the great, sprawling palace of the Olympian gods. Her mother did not object.

It wasn’t until many hours later, when Artemis had gone to see what trouble her brother was undoubtedly causing, and Athena had been called away, that Kore managed to find a moment to catch her breath.

Having rather artfully dodged a gaggle of searching nymphs, she moved off through the gardens, admiring the beauty of the place, until she came to a lonely terrace on the far side of the palace complex. It overlooked the clouds and endless, empty sky of the world below, but as the sun now hung low in the aether, the little garden was plunged into the cool, deep shadows of late afternoon.

But she was not alone. Standing alone at the marble balcony, resting his pale grey hands atop it, was the figure she had seen speaking with Zeus earlier.

He had long, straight black hair that fell almost to his waist, wafting slightly in the shifting breezes that eddied and swirled about the courtyard from the world below, and as she squinted to see him better, she realised that beneath his thick, black himation, he was thin to the point of emaciated. A slight cloud of shadow hung about him, like mist on an autumn morning, and he bowed his head softly, as though immeasurably sad.

Kore took a step backwards, not wanting to disturb his solitude, and instantly stumbled on the stone edging of a flowerbed. With an ungainly screech, she toppled back amid the roses and peonies, and immediately began to laugh. It was an ugly, amused cackle of pure glee, interspersed with the occasional nasal snort, and the figure on the far side foe the courtyard whipped around at the sudden, undignified commotion.

Unlike the other gods, who tended to favour the looser and more revealing styles, his himation passed tightly across his collarbones, and the folds draped low down his arms, hiding their extreme slenderness. The fabric was a black so dense it seemed to drain the colour from his immediate surroundings, and the hem that brushed the marble floor smoked and misted faintly, like an incense stick.

His face was gaunt, but his deep-set eyes gleamed. They were the pale, silver-grey of frost-rimed stone. His lips, parted in a gasp of surprise, appeared almost bruised, a similar hue to the dark circles around his deep-set eyes, but they were elegantly shaped, with a sharp taper at the corners. “Are you… alright?” he asked stiffly in a dry, rasping baritone.

She let out another peel of giggles as he approached hesitatingly, and held out his hand to her. His fingers were long and thin and knuckly, but there was such grace to his calculated movements that she felt doubly clumsy by comparison.

“Yes,” she snorted. “I’m so sorry. I was trying not to disturb you but… well…” she gave another laugh, shier this time, and let him pull her effortlessly to her feet. His hand was freezing despite the warmth of the endless summer that swathed the sacred mountain.

He let go of her immediately, and she didn’t miss the way he wiped his hand clean of dirt. He looked like the fastidiously clean type.

Once steady, she dusted herself down and then boldly held out her hand to him again. “I’m Kore,” she said, then added reluctantly, “Well, my name’s actually Persephone, but… no one calls me that.”

“Why not?” he asked, taking her hand automatically, and then looking surprised that he’d done so. Well, she _thought_ he seemed surprised. The emotion flashed across his stern, gaunt face so quickly she couldn’t be sure she’d even seen anything.

The question took her by surprise though, and she blinked. “I… I suppose because my mother never does? It was the name my father gave me, but she and he don’t exactly get along, so…”

“So Demeter calls you ‘girl’?” he said dryly.

“You know my mother?”

“Indeed,” he said.

“How? And who are you?” she asked, exhaling the questions softly, staring up into those strange, alluring eyes. They were sunken in his face and he looked emaciated to the point of weakness, even death, while the pallid grey wash of his skin hardly added to the picture of health.

“Can’t you guess?” he asked, voice hoarse and low, his words delicately articulated by the tip of his tongue right behind his white teeth. He sighed and turned away from her, as though the sight of him would offend her if he continued to show himself fully.

“Won’t you tell me?” she countered playfully, grinning up at him. And by Olympus, he was _tall_.

He turned back to her, and for the first time in their encounter, she saw true emotion on his face, though quite what it was, she couldn’t be sure. At first she thought it was anger, but then she noticed how soft his eyes were, and realised it was fear. He was afraid? Of _her_? The immortal let out a long, rasping sigh, eerily reminiscent of a death rattle, and then said, “I am rarely named aloud, even by the other gods themselves.”

“Hades,” she whispered fearlessly, realising that she should have guessed it immediately. “You’re Hades, aren't you?”

He bowed his head in silent affirmation.

“I was told you don’t leave the Underworld,” she said carefully. “Are you here for Hephaestus?”

Hades nodded. “I can leave for a while, but I will have to return soon. It is a joy to see the sun again, even if the sight of it drains me.”

“You should come and visit us in Eleusis,” she said immediately. “If you like the sun, I mean. It’s always sunny and warm, and there are more flowers there than anywhere else on earth.”

“I would like that,” he said gently, but his eyes were so sad it almost broke her heart. “However, I fear that your mother would not consent to such a visit.”

“Rubbish,” she snorted. “Mother only hates your brother, and, like, _half_ the other male gods. She’s never even mentioned you.”

A solitary, sharp eyebrow sailed up towards Hades’ hairline, and his lips twisted into an ugly semblance of a smile. “She likes me _that_ much, does she?” he said. “Ah well. Honestly, I’m not surprised. Your mother has never had any love for me.”

A little frown wrinkled Kore’s brow, and she felt the joy draining out of her at the sight of him. He seemed so cold and hard, and she’d certainly heard talk from Artemis and Athena and the others that he was cruel and utterly heartless, but all she saw was a terribly lonely soul with no one to offer him kindness.

“You should return to the festivities,” he said. “I would hate for someone to stumble across you here, alone with me, and jump to the wrong conclusions.”

“Don’t worry,” she laughed, approaching him with a playful step and a glint in her green eyes, “I wouldn’t do anything to compromise your reputation.”

“I… It… It was more…” Hades, Lord of the Underworld, feared above all others, even perhaps Zeus himself, became visibly flustered, a very slight warmth creeping up his neck.

Persephone chuckled and, on an impulse of the moment, drew the flower crown off her own head and stepped up to him. She raised her hands and prepared to lift it to place it onto his own head, but he shrank suddenly back from her, a look of pure and open horror in his face. “No, don’t,” he hissed.

“They’re just flowers,” she pouted, visibly hurt.

“They’ll die,” he choked. “If I touch them, they’ll die.”

“Oh,” she breathed, holding them loosely in her hands in front of her.

Staring down at them in the uncomfortable silence that blossomed between them, she was struck by an idea, and wiggled one of them free of the wreath before setting it back on her head. Feeling determined, she approached him again, and he stood still, patient and wary as a newly backed colt, as she reached hesitantly for the silver brooch which was fastened to his himation at the shoulder. It was the only piece of decoration on him, and it was fairly plain. She recognised the flower instantly, and smiled. “You like asphodels?” she asked, running her fingertips over it.

Standing this close to him, she realised that he smelled softly of wood-smoke, and like the sky at midnight, and faintly of the flowers themselves, and for the very first time in her life, she felt a warmth kindle between her legs.

“Yes,” he said. “And although they grow rampant in the Underworld, I’ve seldom seen them above.” His voice was quiet, barely a voiced whisper, and he kept his eyes staring straight ahead, as though dreading her touch.

Her shoulders slumped, and her heart went out of the gesture she had been about to make. However, she wouldn’t let herself back down now, and so she raised the blousy gardenia flower and tucked it in behind the brooch. No heat radiated from his body the way it did with the other gods that she had been near, and as she smoothed down the cloth of the black himation just around it, she felt his hard, bony body beneath for just a moment.

Hades seemed to be holding his breath.

When she stepped back and smiled up at him, she watched the hard line of his tense shoulders soften, and he glanced down at the blossom. “It’s beautiful,” he said gently. “Thank you.”

“Now you can have a little piece of Eleusis with you,” she said. “And you won’t have to face the wrath of my mother for the trouble of it.”

His eyes glittered strangely for a moment, like polished silver in moonlight, and his lips formed a thin but genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said again. “I will have one of my attendants remove it later, so that it does not turn to ash.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I… That must be awful…”

“It doesn’t happen with everything,” he chuckled dryly. “Else I don’t think I could be seen in public…” and he lifted a fold of his himation for emphasis, which made her giggle a little laugh out of her nose. “It’s just things which grow in the sunlight up here.”

“I’m still sorry,” she said. “Do things grow in the Underworld? Oh, of course, you spoke of the asphodels, of course they do… Stupid me…”

The fact that Hades had gone very still and was staring past her made her forget her embarrassment and turn, and there on the steps down into this secluded little balcony garden, she saw her mother.

“So much for not facing the wrath of your mother,” he muttered under his breath, before addressing the goddess herself. “Lady Demeter,” he said, inclining his head so that his long, straight black hair slid forwards over his shoulders like ink poured from a bottle.

Demeter’s hearty face was white with rage. “What are you doing here, alone, with _him_?” she snarled, sweeping down the staircase and coming to a halt just in front of her, placing herself between Hades and her daughter.

“I was exploring, and came across him here, mother,” she said testily.

Demeter’s blue eyes were fixed upon the gardenia flower. Raising her hand and clenching her fist, she withered it instantly upon his chest, and turned away grabbing Kore’s arm and dragging her back towards the festivities.

“Mother, stop!” she whimpered, twisting her hand free. Defiant, she ground to a halt on the stairs and made the time to back at him. He was just plucking the dead flower from the brooch when it slowly crumbled to ash between his loose fingers. His jaw clenched, but he lowered his hands despondently and turned his eyes up to meet hers.

Enraged at her mother’s treatment, Persephone drew on the new depths of that power and extended her hand towards a nearby flowerbed. A huge gardenia plant reared up out of the earth and she stomped over to it, plucked a blossom free, and marched back over to him. “I will _not_ let her take this from you,” she hissed as she placed it back behind the brooch. “I’m just sorry it’s not one from home.”

“It’s from you,” he whispered, utter disbelief written across his stony face. “That is enough.”

With a weak smile, she turned from him and followed behind her mother who spoke not one word to her until they were almost back amongst the dancing and drinking guests. Rounding on her in a quiet alcove, Demeter growled, “How dare you! I warned you how they behave up here, and still you left? Alone? Where are Artemis and Athena? When I find them -”

“-there will be no end to the lecture you will give them,” Persephone intoned. “Mother, please. It’s not necessary. I left of my own free will. I needed to get away from the party for a bit. We just talked? Is that so wrong? It’s no different from talking with Athena or Artemis, or any of the nymphs, or even you! We _just talked._ And you know what?” she fired, stoking the heat of her outrage, “It was _nice_. It was nice to talk with someone who doesn’t treat me like ‘little Kore’. Who just talks to _me._ But you ruined it. You always ruin everything!”

Tears sparkled in her eyes as she stormed away.

Hephaestus saw her as she re-entered the courtyard, and he immediately left Aphrodite’s side, the other not even noticing him limping heavily away as she flirted openly with a dark-eyed attendant.

“Hey, cousin,” he asked, his words a little slurred but his concern was genuine despite the drink. “Don’t cry on my wedding day. What’s wrong?”

“I’m going home,” she said, voice quavering. “But I hope you’re happy. It’s a wonderful party.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, you know… Mother came and stamped all over my half a moment of fun, as usual,” she scowled. “I’m fed up with being treated like a child. I’m not a child any more.”

“No,” he said sincerely, his eyes drifting downwards for just a moment. His gaze was not predatory, only carrying the slightly mocking expression of a male relative who realises his childhood playmate has grown to become a woman. “No, you’re not. And if anyone gives you any grief, you come to me, alright?”

She smiled and placed her hand on his rough, bearded cheek. “Thanks Phae, you’re the best.”

For just an instant, his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into her chaste touch. Kore was suddenly struck by the fact that despite his long life, not many people would have touched the god who had been shunned by his own mother for his physical deformity.

She laced her arms around his thick, muscular neck and hugged him tightly once more before stepping back. “Thank you for inviting me today. I’m so glad I came, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to see more of you.”

He nodded, still looking a little glassy eyed, though whether that was the drink or the physical contact, she couldn't be sure. “You’ll just have to come by the workshop and see what I’ve been making,” he grinned. “And I know Cedalion would _love_ to see you again,” he added with a playful wink.

Kore turned and offered him a look at the comb in the back of her hair, and he grinned as she returned her eyes to his. “I’d love to come,” she said.

“Suits you,” he commented.

Demeter came over like a storm cloud, and Kore sighed. “See you Phae. And take care, alright?”

He nodded, leaning somewhat drunkenly on his staff as much for balance as to ease the weight off his leg, and watched as she turned on her heel without a backwards glance at her mother and stalked down the steps of the palace.

As she entered the shade of two cypress trees, growing like sentinels beside the path, she shivered. Unseen eyes watched her from a balcony far above, and the sighing wind hissed through the evergreen needles of the cypresses, lifting a wayward strand of her red-gold hair from her cheek.

She could probably have opened up a gateway to Eleusis from there, but her powers were somewhat unpredictable still, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of the Olympian deities. Instead, she waited until she was well out of sight, and gestured as she’d seen her mother do, channelling the essence of her homeland. The air rippled and stirred, and she stepped through into the dark, moonlit meadows of her childhood, no longer feeling like a child.

The scent of asphodel hung heavy in her mind, and as she ignored her mother’s calls and the twittering of the nymphs who had been so abruptly called back to their mistress’ side, she felt a wicked glint appear in her eye.

With each step she took towards the house, a tall, strong, white asphodel shot up and began to flower, bathed in soft, silver moonlight.


	2. Bold moves and blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon their return from the festivities at Olympus, Demeter deals with the fallout of their argument, Kore continues growing asphodels in locations her mother will hate, and she goes to visit Hephaestus at his forge. They return Hades' chariot to Olympus together, and Kore makes a snap decision that astonishes Hephaestus, and will leave her mother hopping mad...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Thank you so much for your feedback on the first chapter! I'm really pleased you enjoyed it, and I'll be continuing it now that I know folks want more! Not sure how long it'll be, but thanks to everyone who got in touch here or on Tumblr (@monstersandmaw) to let me know you enjoyed it. It's also up on my Wattpad (@TheMonstersMaw).  
> Anyway, that's enough waffle from me: here's more of vivacious Persephone/Kore, best bro Hephaestus, and overbearing Demeter for you. Oh, and of course, a dose of everyone's favourite socially awkward lanky boi, Hades...

Demeter had wasted no time in ripping up every asphodel that her daughter had grown between the portal and the house. It wasn’t that she hated her cosmic brother, more that she feared the influence he might have over her daughter if she allowed it to take hold. She had deliberately kept suitors from Kore’s presence, rejecting proposals from Apollo and Hermes, and even Hephaestus, before they had even had a chance to corrupt Kore with thoughts of marriage. Men took what they wanted from women and discarded them by the wayside when they had satisfied their desires.

She said as much to Kore when the young goddess had brought up the matter of marriage. Demeter could barely contain the laughter at the idea of her daughter in a dirty, filthy, hot smithy, wilting like a flower behind glass. Kore, ever feisty and fiery, had raged at her mother for bursting the bubble of her delusions for her. 

“No man would have his way with my daughter like that, as a beast ruts in the field!” Demeter had scoffed.

“And what of wolves, mother?” she said. “Do they not mate for life, and pine when they are parted? What of seabirds who spend months apart, only to return to the same place every year and reunite? Do not be so quick to judge, mother. Not everything fits in your narrow view…” and thus she had stormed off again.

Demeter had let her go, and the issue had blown over, just as she’d hoped it would.

But this time, she could sense a deeper anger in her daughter after returning from Olympus. She knew it had been a mistake to take her there. There was an undercurrent in Kore that spoke of hidden depths to the fast flowing river that was her daughter’s character. Demeter tried to give her her space, but when Kore went an entire month without speaking to her, barely eating, and spending most of her time either in her room or out in the fields, refusing the company of the nymphs who had begun to _fear_ their mistress in a way they never had before, she knew she would have to intervene.

Knocking on Kore’s door one morning, not long after dawn, she sighed. The gaping silence that answered her was fast becoming the soundtrack to her little house these days. “Kore, darling, may I come in?”

Nothing.

“Kore?” she said again, gingerly pushing the door open.

Empty.

Demeter turned to go, but froze when she caught sight of what was sitting right in the centre of the windowsill which overlooked the sea.

Her jaw ground and she burst back into the room.

An asphodel grew in a large, black pot, its long, sword-shaped leaves dangling luxuriantly down over the sides, and the single grayish central stalk spearing straight upwards towards the heavens as if in a gesture of defiance towards the goddess who loathed everything the flowers symbolised. The delicate white flowers, unfurling from cone-shaped heads atop the branching stem, gazed innocently at her.

Demeter snapped.

She strode across the room, flung the window open wide, and shoved the plant, pot and all, out to shatter on the sunbaked earth below. Inhaling the salty, cool air of the morning, she stood in the window. Hades was the lord of death. To grow his flowers here invited not only his gaze, but death itself into a realm that should be bursting with life. She could not have been more horrified had her daughter chosen to sleep in a cemetery among the lingering shades and memories.

At the sound of shattering pottery, an attendant had come running. “My lady?” she asked, skidding to a halt on the terracotta tiles of the hallway outside. “Oh, Lady Demeter, forgive me. I thought it was the Lady Kore. Is… Is everything alright?” Her bright green eyes darted around the room, looking for the source of the noise.

“All is well, thank you.”

The nymph bobbed a curtsy and left, hurrying away lest her mistress’ anger flare up again.

Demeter turned back to the now empty window, and sighed. Amphritite had warned her that she could not keep her daughter cooped up forever, and it seemed those days were upon her. Guilt surged, wild and all-consuming as a storm lashing the coast, and she turned away, only to find her daughter standing in the doorway, with a face like a thunderhead.

“How dare you?” she whispered, and a chill ran through her mother at the tone. That was not the voice of a child. This was the anger of a fellow goddess, raised against her own blood. “How dare you destroy life that I created like that.”

“You must not grow these flowers here,” she said. “They are sacred to Hades, and I will have nothing sacred to _him_ growing in my lands.” She knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. To forbid her daughter anything was the surest way to get her to do it.

“Is death not a part of life, mother?” she retorted. “Is death not as beautiful, as certain, as peaceful, as wondrous as life? Surely if you deny death, you also deny life?” after another heartbeat she ground her jaw and then rather ruined the dramatic effect of her words by shouting, “And that was my favourite pot!” She let out one last, furious, wordless grunt, turned on her heel, and stalked away.

 

***

 

It was another month before Kore could bring herself to talk to her mother. Not only had she treated her like an incapable child, but she insisted on swaddling her up in layers of protection until she felt sure she would suffocate or go mad. Yes, she was young by Olympian standards, and it seemed as though everything useful or worth claiming - wisdom, healing, hearth - had already gone, leaving her goddess of _flowers_. “What use are flowers?” she snarled at herself as she stormed away towards the temple which the mortals had built to her and her mother in the fertile plains around their home.

A wicked idea glimmered to life as she saw a white cat slinking along the wall in the shadows of the temple, and she practically skipped towards the building. “Well, at least I will find one use for a very specific flower…” And in the shelter of the sacred stones, where no life could be destroyed save for the sacrificial animals brought to honour her and her mother, Persephone grew a dirty great asphodel, as tall as she was and bursting with life.

Having run her fingertips along the stem and over the fragile flowers, she turned her gaze beyond the temple, and caught sight of two humans. They were in the olive groves which surrounded the sacred building on three sides, and the man had backed a woman up against one of the trees. Her fingers grasped his shoulders and she moaned as if he were hurting her. She knew about sex, and she knew that males took females in order to create new life. But she had never actually seen a _human_ couple together.

Effortlessly shrouding herself from their sight, she stepped closer and watched as his hips rutted desperately upwards and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands and nails clawed at his broad, muscular back, and she threw her head back and let out a deep groan of pleasure as he shifted his grip on her and took up a new angle.

“More!” the woman gasped, grabbing his dark, curly hair and tugging on it hard enough to make him growl. A moment later his hips stuttered and she clenched hard around him, a broken cry escaping her lips. When they were finished, he lowered her carefully to the ground and cupped her face briefly in his large, knuckly hand.

“We can’t keep doing this,” the woman said regretfully. “If Irene ever finds out…”

Kore’s mood darkened. Their apparent love was clouded by the taint of infidelity, and her mood soured. Perhaps her mother was right. Perhaps she should just stay in the safety of Eleusis, and grow nothing but worthless flowers until she eventually became an old crone that no one would want anyway.

The sight of the unfaithful humans made her think suddenly of her cousin. It had been months since her first visit to Olympia for Hephaestus’ wedding, and her mother had warned her that Aphrodite would be tangled in Ares’ sheets before the night was even out. At the time, she had thought the comment cynical, but having seen these two at it - to use her mother’s turn of phrase - like ‘beasts rutting in the field’, she was not so sure her mother hadn’t been right.

Waving her hand in front of her, she opened up a pathway to Lemnos, where the god kept his forge fires burning night and day.

Arriving just outside the entrance, she stepped out onto the hard, rocky earth, and looked around, sensing someone standing nearby. When she turned, she was greeted by the sight of Thetis, the nymph who had saved Hephaestus after Hera had thrown him down from Olympus in disgust. Thetis was as close to a mother as Hephaestus had, and had always been kind and sweet to Kore whenever she had visited. The sea nymph held open her arms and beamed a greeting as warm as the midday sun that beat down on Kore’s red-gold hair.

“Ah, child,” Thetis laughed as she wrapped her up in a hug. “It does my heart glad to see you here again.”

“How are you?” Kore asked, stepping back from the embrace as the nymph released her and straightened her hair out with affection.

Thetis nodded. “Well enough, thank you, child,” she said.

Kore did not miss the way the elderly woman’s eyes flickered to the entrance of the cave behind her, to the tunnel which led down into the earth, and to Hephaestus’ forge.

When she saw Kore watching her, she sighed. “He is… oh child, frankly he’s miserable. I knew he would be, but he would not listen.”

“I will talk to him,” she said, resting her hand briefly on the nymph’s arm. “See if I can’t distract him for a while.”

Hephaestus had his broad, bare back to the entrance as she stepped inside the enormous cavern that formed his workshop. Steam and smoke was carried up through the earth in cleverly designed shafts, and a system of separate vents brought in fresh air from outside. The god had no fear of flying sparks or searing coals, and as he raised his huge hammer, she saw that what lay on his anvil was a new lightning bolt for Zeus. The power it radiated was unfathomable, and made goosebumps crawl up her arms.

Bronze-skinned Cedalion was painstakingly working on a mail vest, each link riveted in place before moving on to add the next one, and when he saw her standing there watching, he leapt to his feet and bolted awkwardly over towards her. “My Lady!” he gasped. “Lady Kore! It’s so good to see you!” and he held out his hand to take hers and kiss her knuckles in greeting, but when he saw the state of his filthy fingers, he aborted the gesture and flushed crimson. “Forgive me,” he said.

Kore laughed and grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. “I’m not afraid of a little dirt, Ced…”

He laughed, and then glanced hesitantly over his shoulder. “He’s… not in the best of moods…”

“So I hear,” Kore sighed. “I’ll wait for him to finish, I think. I don’t want to interrupt just now.”

“Can I get you something to eat or drink? Nectar? Perhaps some ambrosia?”

“Thank you, a drink would be lovely,” she said, and as Cedalion practically leapt away to do her bidding, Hephaestus looked around.

His tired, smudged, dirty face lit up when he saw her and he beamed a brilliant smile. “Hey! Kore!” he boomed, setting the thunderbolt down beside the hot coals of his forge to rest, and grabbing a gnarled walking cane which rested casually against the anvil.

He approached in his familiar, heavily rocking gait, his leg buckling beneath him with each step, and swept her up into his arms, heedless of the smell and sweat he brought with him. “Oh bollocks,” he swore, pulling back when he realised he’d left black smudges all over her dress. “Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“It’s fine, Phae,” she grinned. “I can always wash it.”

“What are you doing down here? Ahh, but it’s so good to see you…” he added, rubbing his coarse beard with a grubby hand.

“I thought I’d come and see what you’ve been making,” she said. “You did say I was invited whenever I liked, but I hope I’m not interrupting your work.”

“Perfect timing,” he said, and his eyes darted to Cedalion who had reentered bearing a huge, chased gold pitcher of nectar and three goblets. Any other divine master might have thought the inclusion of a goblet for himself was presumptuous, but Hephaestus never commented as Cedalion poured himself a glass after filling the other two. “Ah, Kore,” the smith sighed, easing himself down onto another nearby anvil that was at just the right height for him to sit on and meet her gaze levelly. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Things not going so well with -?”

“Please don’t even say her name,” he hissed. “I can’t face hearing it.”

“I’m so sorry, Phae,” she whispered, taking a step towards him and clasping his shoulder in her hand.

He shook his head, his lovely curls bouncing wildly around a face that was ruggedly handsome, his cheeks permanently reddened by the fires he worked. His hands were rough, chapped and scarred from his work, but they were always gentle. How someone could treat him like this was beyond Kore’s grasp. “What hurts is that everyone warned me… Everyone said ‘she’ll be unfaithful’… They were right.”

“I don’t understand why she agreed to marriage in the first place if she had no intention of keeping her vows to you,” Kore said, sipping from her nectar.

Hephaestus looked up at her with his dark eyes, and sighed. “I think she likes the fact that she knows I’ll do anything for her. She likes the power she has over me. Ares thunders and argues with her, but me?” he shook his head again, “I was the perfect husband. She wanted to play at having a domestic little family for a while. She always wants it all.”

She grabbed his huge, leathery hand and squeezed. “There will be someone who sees you for who you are, Phae, I promise,” she said.

He looked up slowly through his lashes at her and a wry smile twisted his lips. “I thought you did. Once,” he said.

Kore took half a step backwards in surprise. “Really? I mean…” she floundered.

“It’s alright, Kore,” he mumbled, taking a deep draw from his cup. “You don’t need to break my heart twice.”

“Twice?”

“You didn’t think it’d hurt me enough the first time you turned me down - via your _mother_ , I should add… I don’t need you to go and do it all over again now. I’m past that. I think.”

“Wait, what? Via my mother? First time? Hephaestus, I’ve never turned you down because you’ve never asked me. It’s true that I’ve always seen you as more a brother than a cousin, but still, I don’t think it’s fair of you to accuse me of something I’ve not done.”

Hephaestus stared up at her in disbelief. “And what about all the others you’ve turned down? Are you going to pretend you have no memory of them too?”

“Phae…” she breathed, horrified. And then the penny dropped. “‘My mother’… Phae, you said my _mother_ spoke on my behalf?” He nodded disconsolately. “She never told me you’d even asked.”

Hephaestus continued to stare at her for a long few breaths, and then huffed a rather sarcastic, bitter laugh. “Of course, she didn’t. _Zeus’ beard_ ,” he added, smiling. “Forgive me, Kore. I’m so sour at the moment I’m surprised I haven’t curdled that nectar. I know you’d never knowingly snub someone like that.”

“Thanks,” she said, relief and regret warring in her veins. She eased herself down onto a crate behind her and said, “So… um… who else has asked for my hand then?”

“Apollo and Hermes both, as far as I know. There might be others, but I only know of those two.”

A shudder ran through her at the thought of being vain, narcissistic Apollo’s wife, and Hermes could be tricksy and manipulative when he wanted to. Hephaestus was the only one she could possibly have imagined being married to, although as much as she cared for him, it didn’t feel _right_. “Ugh,” she sighed, “As if I weren’t angry enough with my mother already! Now I have that to add to my list of grievances.”

“Oh?” he asked, sipping his nectar a little more sedately.

She rolled her eyes and, glancing round, saw that Cedalion had wisely taken himself off to a far corner of the workshop where he now appeared to be setting diamonds into a curved, golden tiara while the two higher gods talked. Kore offloaded a little of her troubles onto an already burdened Hephaestus, deciding not to drown him in her somewhat petty grievances while he dealt with his new wife’s infidelity, and the shame that the gods saw fit to heap upon _him_ , rather than on her.

“You know what?” he said when they’d run the topic of Demeter into the ground. “I’ve just finished repairing Hades’ chariot - he lent it to Hecate of all people, and she managed to crack the axle. I’m supposed to be taking it to Olympus later today so he can collect it while he’s there meeting his brother. You want to come with me?”

“I’d love to!” she laughed. “When do you want to go?”

“Let’s go now. We can take our time.”

Grinning, she held out her hand to him and he used her sturdy body to haul himself to his feet. She didn’t miss the grimace he tried to hide, nor the heavy limp to his gait for the first few steps. His syncopated rhythm and the regular clunk of the tip of his cane accompanied her as she walked by his side down an adjoining passageway until they reached a cave which looked out onto the sea.

She gasped when she saw the shining bronze automaton waiting there, motionless as a statue.

“My latest creation,” he grinned proudly, elbowing her in the ribs as he darted forwards to show it to her. He was right to be proud of the creation. It was a large sphere about as wide as a man’s arm span, with three articulated legs built like a spider’s to support it. As he approached, a faint, warm light began to glow along the glyphs on its body, and it shuddered to life beneath his palm. “Shall we take it out for its maiden voyage?” he asked with a lopsided, mischievous grin.

“You _have_ tested it first though, right?” she asked, taking a step back from it, partly to admire it and partly to assess whether Hephaestus had actually lost his mind.

He laughed. “Extensively. I’d never put you in harm’s way, Kore. Come on,” he said, and he shifted the covers off a large, two-person chariot which stood behind him. When she saw it, she raised her brows, impressed. The whole thing was made of panels of beautifully chased, pure, gleaming gold, showing scenes of the Titanomachy.

“Phae, you really are incredibly talented,” she breathed, staring at the details and tracing her fingertips over the panels. “This is…” she shook her head and looked up at him. If his cheeks were a little darker than usual, it was hard to tell in the shadows of the cave.

“Shall we go?” he asked, hitching his tripod up to the chariot and grinning.

Kore nodded, and Hephaestus opened up a gateway to Olympus, and once they were aboard, the automaton began to trundle forwards with the ease of a well-trained mule.

“How does it work?” she asked, staring at it and grinning as its clinking legs trundled along the gauzy, almost intangible walkway through the aether up to Olympus.

“Oh gosh,” Hephaestus laughed, bowing his handsome head and leaning his weight against the front of the chariot on his hugely muscled forearms. Kore tried to look at them with a woman’s appreciative eyes, and while she was definitely impressed at his strength, and the dedication that those muscles represented, her mind suddenly flashed back to the pale, bone-grey skin of Hades as he’d leaned on the balustrade in the great palace of Olympus itself. There was a grace and beauty to his movements that no one she had ever met possessed. In fact, she let her mind linger so long on the memory that she completely missed Hephaestus’ long and detailed explanation, and when she remembered to look up, she found him staring at her and laughing gently. “Bored yet?” he snorted.

“Phae, I’m so sorry,” she said, blushing furiously. “I… I got distracted before you even started. I’m a horrible friend…”

He briefly clutched her upper arm in his strong fingers and chuckled. “It’s alright, Kore,” he said. “You’ve got a lot on that clever mind of yours as well. We’re almost there anyway.”

Hephaestus left the chariot in the stables, and the various mounts and steeds and winged horses snorted and pranced at the sight of the unnatural automaton, but when Hephaestus ordered it to remain still and quiet, it became just another part of the decor, and the animals calmed. Kore’s eyes were drawn to four impressive black steeds, all stabled in a line, and all snorting wildly. She had always loved horses, and stepped closer, though initially not close enough to touch any - or, more likely, get bitten by them. They were truly stunning beasts, muscular and immensely tall, all of them sable black, with smoky manes and rolling red eyes.

“Kore,” Hephaestus warned, pausing to see where she was. “Those beasts are Hades’… leave them be. They’re half wild…”

She nodded and headed after him, looking back over her shoulder at them.

As they made their way up the long, winding path to the summit of Mount Olympus, Hephaestus’ limp became more pronounced, and at one point she glimpsed sweat at his temples. He was breathing hard, his face paling under the obvious pain that the steep incline put on his leg, and she looked around desperately to find a way to allow him to pause without coming across as patronising. As a conveniently placed marble bench came into view up ahead, facing a spectacular vista of the wide earth below, Kore rushed off and gazed over the edge in genuine wonder.

The smith hung back and eyed the bench, eventually sinking down onto it with an audible grunt of relief and kneading his obviously excruciatingly painful hip joint while Kore stared wide eyed at the view of the world below. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she murmured. The whole of creation spread out beneath them like a living carpet, with millions of souls living their lives down there.

A chill breeze lifted her chestnut hair some time later, and she turned to find Hephaestus on his feet again, nodding respectfully at a figure wreathed in shadow, storming down the path from the citadel. His face was harder and colder than any of the steel tools that the smith used to wring patterns out of metal, and she found her breath leaving her lungs in a rush at the terrible beauty of his face. His eyes flashed silver, but when they saw her, his marching footsteps faltered.

Hades was every bit as gaunt and emaciated as she recalled from their first meeting, but there was a vibrant light to his eyes that spoke of deep emotion and anger, and behind him over the head of Mount Olympus itself, clouds gathered and lighting flashed. His discussion with Zeus had not gone well, it seemed.

“My Lord Hades,” she murmured, curtsying briefly.

His pearly grey eyes swept the length of her white dress and she realised it was still stained from Hephaestus’ boisterous and sooty embrace earlier, and blushed.

“Lady Persephone,” he murmured politely, his thin lips twisting into a brief but genuine smile.

That he had remembered and called her by her other name, the one no one used, drew a warm smile of her own from her. “I…” she said, not really knowing what she was going to say until she saw Hephaestus watching, _staring_ , from behind the roiling shadows that wreathed Hades like an aura. “I was visiting Hephaestus when he told me he wanted to return your chariot today. I saw your horses in the stables… they’re beautiful.”

Hades fixed her with an impenetrable stare, before his shoulders dropped an inch or so and he blinked slowly. “I hope you didn’t approach them. They have a tendency to bite.”

She shook her head. “I wanted to, but no. I didn’t.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to come to harm.”

Another moment of awkward silence hung between the two of them, until Kore glanced back at the frothing clouds above the citadel and murmured, “All is not well up there?”

Hephaestus hissed in a breath and his eyes went wide. He shook his head in warning but stopped abruptly when Hades quirked his eyebrow in the smith’s direction without fully looking at him. “You might say that,” Hades said wryly. “A disagreement between brothers. Please, do not let it darken your day though, bright Persephone.” Hades sighed, and then inclined his head in a brief bow, and took his leave of both of them, sweeping away down the paved path towards the stables.

“You,” Hephaestus whispered as he turned to face her, his footsteps stirring the coiling shadows of Hades’ lingering wake, “Have balls of solid adamantine.”

She grinned. “No,” she chuckled. “But watch this.” And she called after Hades’ retreating back. “My lord?”

The oldest of the gods halted and turned, his pale, ash-grey face impassive as she trotted a little closer to him, smiling. Hephaestus was out of earshot, but he could see the way the Lord of Death’s sculpted eyebrows rose and his eyes widened, and then he laughed softly. It was even a mirthful laugh that touched his cold eyes, and Hephaestus watched as the Lord of the Underworld nodded and turned to go for a second time, a strange and lopsided smile still on his thin, bruised-grey lips.

“What the actual…?” Hephaestus gaped as his cousin returned to him.

“I just invited the Lord of Death to dinner. My mother is going to be _furious_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Don't forget to let me know if you did by dropping a click on that kudos heart, and hopefully also leaving me a comment! It really does make all the difference!


	3. A Return to the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter from Hades' point of view this time. Self-care is not a priority for the Lord of the Dead...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I realise it's been a literal life-age since I updated this, but a lovely anon over on Tumblr prompted me to visit my draft for this chapter, and I found it was mostly finished, so I edited it and added the ending on, and here it is! As I said, Hades is not good at taking care of himself, so watch out for some self-care issues, but other than that, I hope you enjoy seeing things from Hades' point of view. Also, note that Thanatos is the god of Death, and Hades is the god of the Dead... difference. :)  
> Also, thank you so much to everyone who commented and left kudos and encouraged me. I hope you like this one!

Hades strode away from the summit of Mount Olympus with as much thunder in his expression as in the clouds behind him.

“Zeus, you unreasonable, pompous, self-centred old windbag!” he spat to himself as he made his way through the lush gardens that garlanded the mountain from which his younger brother ruled his portion of creation. The flowers began to wither slightly at the touch of his aura as he passed, and that only served to harden his heart even further. This was not his realm, and he needed to return below the earth.

And then in a flash of bright colour, he saw her standing there. She wore a white dress that was smudged with what looked like - ah, yes; there was Hephaestus. The smith smiled nervously at him, as though expecting some kind of barbed comment about a woman’s place in the world - and how it was not wielding a forge-hammer - but the Lord of the Dead simply returned the smith’s polite gesture with a nod of his own.

Persephone had definitely been in his forge then. It seemed strange to think of the gentle maiden of flowers finding friendship with the smith, and yet the two of them both had good hearts. He sighed softly. It was hard to remain angry with his brother when she was standing there looking so concerned and beautiful.

“My Lord Hades,” she said, startling him out of his brief reverie. She looked wild and free and so beautiful that he felt something inside his withered, frail body crack at the sight of her.

“Lady Persephone,” he said with a tremor in his voice that perhaps only he detected. Her blush took him by surprise as well, though he realised it had to be over the state of her dress rather than any response he might have elicited in her. He felt the shadows begin to coil around him, begging him to sink into them, to avoid the light she cast on his emaciated body, but even as they broiled around him, he willed them back until they merely coiled in impenetrable clouds around the hem of his harsh, black himation.

“I…” she faltered, glancing briefly at Hephaestus standing behind Hades, who had now come to a halt between the two friends. “I was visiting Hephaestus when he told me he wanted to return your chariot today. I saw your horses in the stables… they’re beautiful.”

Horror lurched through his chest at the thought of those powerful beasts near such a gentle creature. Just like Cerberus, when around someone they did not know, they could be vicious, and the nature of the dread horses’ unusual diet had given them a taste for blood. When he saw no obvious injuries, he relaxed a little and said, “I hope you didn’t approach them. They have a tendency to bite.”

She shook her head, red-gold waves spilling freely around her soft shoulders like the magma which flowed through the veins of the earth. “I wanted to,” she said, “But no. I didn’t.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to come to harm.”

Her reaction to that was strange; a slight heating of her cheeks, a rosy glow behind the copious freckles. They looked like they’d each been hand-painted there on the dark, tanned porcelain of her cheeks by a master potter with the tiniest of brushes. The urge to view them closer, to admire her close up swept through him and he swayed on the spot. He hadn’t felt this way for almost a thousand years.

Once again, he was startled out of his train of thoughts by her hesitant voice. It was a husky alto; rich and earthy, and so unlike the sonorous croon of Aphrodite, or the harsh bark of his celestial sister Hera. It drew him in and he found himself wanting to take a step towards her just to be closer to its source. As that realisation hit him, he realised that it frightened him.

Persephone was speaking again, and he forced himself to listen to her words instead of that intoxicating lilt, only missing the start of her question “…not well up there?” she asked, green eyes wide.

Hades heard the sharp intake of breath from the smith and knew why he had tried to warn Persephone. Hades was a god that not many dared address so directly, even among the eternal, though their reasons were unfounded. He had little sway over the lives of those outside his realm, and frankly he had very little interest in their constant power plays and influence-mongering. His younger brother was their king, and let him have all their drama, Hades thought.

He cocked his eyebrow playfully at the smith and watched him almost choke on his own surprise. “You might say that,” Hades purred.  “A disagreement between brothers. Please, do not let it darken your day though, bright Persephone.”

The way she straightened slightly at his compliment, drawing herself up more proudly like a rose seeking the sun, kindled a warmth in the icy depths of his chest that seemed to burn almost painfully.

Before he could allow himself to believe that Eros had struck him stupid with one of his arrows, he inclined his head at both of them, and took his leave. He was well aware of the roiling cloud of darkness he left in his wake, but he was disinclined to do anything about it. In his mind, it only served to accentuate the difference between the bright goddess of life and his own shadowy calling.

He caught the soft clunk of Hephaestus’ cane on the marble road, and then the awestruck whisper of the smith as he hissed, “You… have balls of solid adamantine.”

The god of the dead gave a soft snort and let their voices recede out of his mind and hearing as he made his way further down the hillside, towards the stables at the bottom. Before he had gone ten paces, however, he heard that husky alto chiming down the road behind him.

Playful as a child, but with all the fullness and beauty of a woman, Persephone half-skipped and half-scampered up to join him.

He turned, himation swirling at his feet. His head swam slightly, though he wasn’t sure if that was because he’d been away from his underworld so long, or if he’d expended too much energy during his family disagreement. Whatever the cause, he was drained. Still, this enchanting being came to a nervous halt in front of him and smiled shyly, uncertainly.

He knew he cut an imposing figure, with his corpse-like emaciation and dull, grey skin; his long, night-black hair flowing around him like a curtain, and his icy grey eyes, and in that moment he sorely wished to appear as anything but that for her. And yet he found himself smiling.

“Lord Hades,” she said sweetly. “You mentioned that you loved the sun and the sight of growing things, and… I would love to show you Eleusis. Will you come and eat with us one time? I could show you the land around our home - it’s right by the sea, and it’s gorgeous…”

“I…” he faltered, surprised. “I would like that,” he found himself saying before he remembered Demeter’s deep-seated hatred of him. “Very much. Would a week before the summer solstice suit you?”

Her answering smile was more powerful than the coming of the dawn. It knocked the breath from him, and he could only stand there, stupid as a love-struck satyr, as she beamed at him. Hades felt the sudden and strange urge to count the freckles on her cheekbones again, and he nearly missed her response. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“I will look forward to it,” he replied. “I regret that I really must be on my way, but… thank you, Persephone. Your kindness is… most refreshing. Though I must ask first: something tells me that your request for my presence may not simply be an innocent invitation… Tell me your ulterior motive.”

She laughed brightly and tossed her hair as she did so. “Can a goddess not invite another deity to dine with her without having an ulterior motive?” When he fixed her with a flat look, she only laughed all the harder. Persephone was clearly not the child her mother took her for. She was most certainly a woman grown, lingering in the shadow of her mother; a goddess who had simply not been given the chance to flourish.

“Please tell me this is not an attempt to irk your dear mother,” he said. A searingly childish desire to piss Demeter off surged in him though, and once again the emotion took him off guard. That was a game he had not bothered with since, well, the Titanomachy at least.

“If it were, would you withdraw your acceptance?”

No one, save for perhaps Hecate, ever addressed the God of the Dead so boldly. He stared at her for a moment, and then found himself laughing. It was a dry, husky sound, like a reed scraping on slate, but it made her eyes twinkle all the same. “No,” he said. “No, I will not withdraw my acceptance. I will be there, bright Persephone,” he chuckled. “May I make one request that I come after the sun has passed its zenith?”

“Of course,” she said. “I look forward to it.”

“As do I.”

And with that, he gave a slight nod, closing his eyes as he did so, and turned back to the stables.

Persephone’s giggle as she rejoined her friend lingered in his ears all the way back to the Underworld.

The horses were unsettled, as they always were after making the journey through the realms, and he let them have their head as he galloped them along the smooth path down from the stables. He could have opened up a portal at any moment, but he decided to let them run. The four black stallions thundered across the plains at the foot of Olympus, relishing the chance to stretch their powerful muscles. Orphnaeus, Aethon, Nyctaeus, and Alastor were enormous horses, black as the depths of his own kingdom, with long, flowing manes and tails that ended in wisps of smoke, and they each stood at seventeen hands high. They followed only Hades’ command, and unless he told them to obey another, they were prone to lashing out and biting. Their teeth were not like those of a mortal horse, and their diet reflected that.

The golden chariot thundered along as smoothly as the day it had been first made for him, and Hades marvelled at the work the smith had done. He also swore to himself never to lend any of his belongings to anyone ever again. Especially Hecate.

As the wind rushed through his black hair, sweeping it behind him like a midnight banner, his vision doubled, and the joy of his wild, careering ride fled him. He had been away from his domain too long, and had expended too much power in his argument with his headstrong little brother. Stubborn and bullheaded as the bloody minotaur, Zeus had pushed and pushed his point until Hades had snapped. Darkness had solidified around him, sweeping towards the Lord of Thunder like a wave from Poseidon’s kingdom, and Zeus had only managed to evade it by splitting it with a fork of lightning, whereupon it had dissolved away like campfire smoke.

On Olympus, Zeus had all the powers of creation available to him at the snap of his fingers, while Hades had only his reserves. With them all but drained, he had staggered, head spinning, and he grimaced as he recalled the way his death-grey hand had clung to the nearest column just to keep himself upright.

“Dammit, brother,” he had gasped, breath rattling and wheezing, cold in his lungs. “Why must you push me like this?”

“I am king, Hades,” he had said as though it were the obvious and only answer. “My word is law. And I command you to seek a wife! It is high time you were married - from the look of you, you’re doing all the work of all the deities of the Underworld! You need someone to share your burden, brother.”

“I need no one,” Hades had snarled like a cornered wolf. “And if you remember, the last bright soul I tried to lead down into the dank, festering kingdom below the earth withered away and died, almost on the spot, brother. No bright spirit, mortal or immortal, should have to suffer that fate. No. I will not marry, and that is final.”

He had turned on the spot and stalked away in a swirling cloud of shadows while Zeus had thundered after him, screaming and yelling at him, but his words had fallen on deaf ears. It had only been that flash of red-gold hair, like gilded copper in Helios’ bright light, that had drawn him from his dark mood.

Before his strength failed him utterly, Hades waved his hand and opened up the way to his own domain. His vision darkened, tunnelled, and he grabbed the front of his chariot and gasped, feeling his knees turn to water. It was only as he tried to distract himself with the thought of visiting Persephone that he realised the reason for his weakness. He had not eaten - nectar, ambrosia, or the fruit of the Underworld - in a very long time.

Too bad that the thought of eating something turned his stomach, even if it was food fit for a Chthonic Deity. How he was going to manage when Persephone served him with food grown in the sunlight, he wasn’t sure, but, as the mortals were so fond of saying, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

The horses took the chariot along the road of the dead, a pale path paved with small rectangular tiles, and as he neared the crossing where Charon stood on his raft, ushering souls aboard and collecting coins, the horses showed no signs of slowing. The ferryman glanced up at the sound of the quadriga’s approach, his gaunt death mask of a face as solemn as ever, and as Hades passed in a blur of shadow, the loyal, silent ferryman dropped stiffly to one knee, his fist clasped across his emaciated chest. His black robes hung in tatters from skeletal shoulders, his skin mummified and shrunken after thousands of years of service to the Underworld, his lips peeled back to reveal his ivory teeth.

Hades nodded briefly in acknowledgement of the ferryman’s deference, and the chariot passed over the water as if it were solid earth. This was his kingdom, and here, his magic flowed from the River Styx, from and from the earth itself.

He saw to the horses himself, washing them each down and drying their coats with handfuls of straw. He could have willed them clean with a wave of his hand, but he took pleasure in the work of his hands. Tired though he was, his return had rejuvenated him.

Once he’d placed each of the steeds in their own stall and thrown a hunk of meat into the trough in the corner for them, he turned and found Hecate standing there in the stable yard, running her fingertips idly over the chased designs on the chariot. At her side was Hecate’s own huge hound who gazed up at her with a gentle expression, and as Hades approached, the bitch whined softly and wagged her bull-whip tail.

“Hephaestus fixed what you broke, Hecate,” Hades smiled at her, crouching low and chuckling as the faithful dog licked his skeletally thin fingers fondly with her warm, rough tongue.

“So I see,” she said without looking at him. Today she wore her youthful face, but that hardly lessened the impact of her lecture as she said, “Hades, my lord, you look terrible.”

“Thank you, dread lady of the underworld,” he said flatly as he straightened and fought off another spell of dizziness.

“I mean it, Hades,” she said. “If you don’t take proper care of yourself, how will you fulfil your duties?”

Hades stormed past her in a silent cloud of darkness, heading for his palace, and quipped, “The way I always have, Hecate.”

She sighed, and he ground his teeth. The souls that lingered here drifted away from his approach, parting like morning mist in an autumn meadow, and as he mounted the shining, obsidian staircase which led to the great palace which he himself had wrought, his vision doubled and he cursed.

Thanatos met him at the top of the stairs, bowing low, and he murmured, “My lord,” he said. When he saw the expression on Hades’ face, he cleared his throat and smiled. “Never mind. It can wait until you’ve eaten.”

“Why is everyone trying to cram food down my throat?” Hades growled good naturedly.

“Because you look worse than half the corpses who shuffle in here, my lord,” the god of death itself said unabashedly.

Hades raised a sharp eyebrow at him, and then smiled. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse, but let it not be said that I said such a thing…”

Hades forced himself to eat a few of the Chthonic fruits, and did his best to hide the retching from his attendants, and then retired to his chambers.

As he disrobed, he looked down at his own body and ran his fingertips over the protruding ribs and the jutting hipbones and sighed. He truly had become little better than a corpse; papery, ash-grey skin stretched over bone. Persephone’s earthy skin tones drifted across his thoughts as he stared at his own skin, the colour of a cloudy sunset sky, and he groaned.

“What’s the point?” he sighed, thinking of her invitation. “What am I doing?”

Her laugh echoed in his ears, the brilliance of her curling, red-gold hair, and the radiance of her smile all lighting him up and sending shivers down his gnarled, knotted spine.

With those thoughts on his mind, he lay back on his dark bed and stared at the ceiling until sleep finally came for him.

 


	4. Dinner with the Lord of the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades comes for dinner, and it probably goes about as well as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves* Hello! Thanks to everyone who commented and encouraged me to keep going with this story! Your reactions give me such life, you have no idea. Again, I want to stress that Hades is bloody rubbish at taking care of himself, but he just has his priorities a bit muddled. We're also going to see the softer side of him in this chapter, and Hephaestus pops up too near the beginning.

As Kore opened up the path to Hephaestus’ forge once again, she left her mother behind her - quite literally spitting brambles and poison ivy at the news of Kore’s impetuous invitation - and she snapped the gateway closed as soon as she could.

Cedalion glanced up from where he was polishing a golden crown, and frowned when he saw the usually cheery-faced young goddess’ expression. “My lady?” he murmured, and she sighed, smiling as best she could.

“Hello, Ced,” she said. “How are you?”

“Oh, very well, very well, thank you, my lady,” he smiled, shifting the work nervously in his gloved hands and bowing his head repeatedly. Clearly, he did not want to get involved in the troubles of the higher deities.

“Glad to hear it. Is Phae around?”

He jutted his chin towards the back workshop. “He’s just started work on a new belt knife I think. He likes to keep himself busy lately.”

Thunder rumbled over the thrashing sea outside, and Kore nodded her thanks at him and left him to his task.

The handsome smith looked up as Kore entered, knocking softly on the door. “Kore,” he smiled, shifting the work to a slightly cooler part of the fire so that it wouldn’t burn and turning to face her. A flicker of a frown ghosted over his strong brows, and he tilted his head slightly to the side. “What’s happened? You alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” she grumbled, flopping down on top of a supply crate with a heavy sigh and a flounce of fabric. “But I’m thinking that maybe I shouldn’t have invited Hades over for lunch…”

Hephaestus quirked an amused eyebrow and leaned his elbow on the bench, resting his chin in his scarred hand and chuckling softly. “Oh yeah? And you wouldn’t happen to be using my workshop as a hideout from your mother, would you?”

“No?” she grinned.

“Kore, Kore, Kore,” he laughed. “Oh you little impetuous thing. Whatever will we do with you?”

“Just let me hide here until mother calms down?”

“That bad, huh?” he asked, and Kore nodded.

“She went white in the face when I told her, and then withered everything in a one mile radius of the house. It took hours for us both to bring it all back to life afterwards, and even then she wouldn’t speak to me.” Kore pushed her thick chestnut hair back out of her eyes and let out another sigh. “She perked up a bit when I asked what I should prepare for the meal though. Maybe she’ll feel better about it if she gets involved, you know?”

“Maybe,” Hephaestus hedged. “But she and Hades have a long-running dislike of each other that stems back to the Titanomachy. Everyone knows as much…”

“Everyone except me, it seems. Why does she hate him so much?”

“Not sure. It’s got something to do with a nymph of hers whom he cared for, and who died I think, but I honestly don’t know the details. Listen,” he added, pushing himself upright and grinning like a young boy. “You want to make yourself useful while you’re down here? I need someone to help me sledge this together…” he said, turning and tugging another piece of white hot steel from the forge. “Grab that hammer there,” he added, nodding at a long-hafted sledge hammer leaning against a nearby anvil. It was the lighter weight one that Cedalion used when the two of them were forging together.

“Phae,” she faltered. “I’ve never… I don’t know what I’m doing! I’ll probably just mess it all up.”

“Rubbish. Now, quick before it gets too cool for this to work.”

Hephaestus guided her through the process of forging two white hot pieces of steel together into one - though it was obvious that he hadn’t needed an ounce of her bumbling help at all - and between the two of them, they slid the high carbon billet into the centre of the soft steel jacket, welding it together to create one piece that would eventually become the beautiful blade of a large knife.

“You did great!” he chuckled as she pulled back, sweaty and dirty and red-cheeked, and leaned against the other anvil, as much for the coolness of it as for the support, while he returned the embryonic blade to his fire and gazed at her. His dark eyes were warm, and they glittered softly. “I think you could try your hand at anything you wanted and be successful,” he murmured.

She smiled back, triumphant and flushed, and watched as his expression faltered just a fraction before he turned away to gaze into the fire.

Kore returned to Eleusis not long afterwards to find her mother in the kitchen, kneading some olive-studded dough and singing softly to herself as she did. Demeter had been in such a foul mood for weeks, and she’d not heard her mother singing in so long, that the sound of it surprised her.

“Mother?”

Demeter turned around and beamed at her. “You’re back! Oh, by Olympus, look at the state of you!” she scoffed, fussing but unable to do anything so embarrassing as dusting her daughter off because of all the flour already on her hands. “Go and wash yourself and change clothes, and then help me prepare. I’m making eliopsomo.”

Kore smiled. “My favourite.”

 

—

 

The morning of Hades’ arrival dawned dewy and chilly.

Despite the summer sun that had baked the rich earth of Eleusis almost to stone, the fields and pastures seemed to know that the Lord of the Dead would be walking amongst their tall stalks that afternoon.

Birds still sang, however, as Kore danced through the golden wheat towards the stream where fresh trout and minnows played amongst the stones, and when she returned to the house with a huge fish over her shoulder, her mother looked at the hem of her white peplos, soaked up to her knees in icy river water, and shook her head.

“Oh, my little child,” she laughed. “Look at you… Here, give me that.”

The two worked in surprisingly amicable harmony for the morning, preparing the food and setting the table, while Kore wove garlands of flowers above the doorway and created elaborate displays for the table.

Demeter watched her with an odd expression on her harshly beautiful face, but when midday ticked by and the afternoon began to wax fully, her features darkened and she set down the carafe of wine with a hefty clunk on the scrubbed wooden surface of the table and announced, “He’s here.”

Kore, who had been slicing the fresh olive bread, gasped and grinned, abandoning her task to dart away and fling open the door of the modest, whitewashed house. At the furthest end of the long, straight, dusty driveway, standing alone in the shadow of the huge cypress tree that guarded the entrance, was a tall, impossibly thin figure, wreathed in smoke and shadow.

She skipped out of the doorway and hurried down the earthen road to meet him, and when she drew level with him, she smiled prettily at the sight of him lingering in the shade. He looked so out of place here, with his stony flesh and silver eyes, and his long black hair which, that day, was tied back off his face in two simple plaits which joined the rest of it in falling freely down his back in an inky cascade.

“Persephone,” he smiled. “You look well.”

“I’m so glad you're here,” she said with genuine warmth. He held out his hand to her and when she saw what it was that he held, she gasped again and covered her mouth. “Lord Hades!” she giggled. “That’s so beautiful!”

“I cannot bring you real flowers, and I feel I probably should not try anyway,” he said as he offered the bunch of carved rubies, each as big as a child’s fist, and held in their settings by a golden stem to simulate a bunch of flowers. “But the wealth of the underworld is mine to offer you.”

“They’re so beautiful!” she repeated breathily. She reached out and took then gently from him, and as her fingers brushed his, he inhaled softly. His skin was so cold, like stone still chilled from the cool of the night, and he smiled almost shyly at the contact. “Come,” she said, clutching the bunch of floral gems. “We’ve been preparing all day for you! Would you like to have something to drink first or would you prefer to have a short tour of Eleusis?”

“I am in your hands, bright Persephone,” he chuckled. “Though I feel I should greet your mother first, loathe as she will be to see me on her land…”

“Oh, I think she’s actually been looking forward to it really,” Persephone breezed, leading Hades into the sunlight and up the road towards their humble house.

Hades muttered softly, “I highly doubt that…” and instantly appeared to regret it as Kore’s good mood deflated. “But after I have paid my respects to her, I would love to see the fields and flowers of your home.”

Demeter looked up from where she’d been setting the wine goblets on the table, and fixed Hades with a stony glare. Her greenish eyes hardened to emerald sharpness and she ground her jaw. “My Lord Aidoneus,” she said with painful politeness. “Welcome to my home.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Lady Demeter,” he said with equal stiffness.

“Oh, it didn’t come from me,” she said with a venomous smile. “But since you’re here, I trust you will enjoy all the hard work that dear Kore has gone to in preparing a veritable feast for you.”

Hades swallowed visibly, but inclined his head. “It is much appreciated, from both of you.”

Kore looked from one to the other of the old gods, and frowned. Something was going on of which she had no knowledge, and she didn’t like it one bit. In an attempt to diffuse the situation, she suggested that she show Hades the woods where the summer flowers were in full bloom, and he seemed all too eager to escape Demeter’s frosty aura.

As the two of them walked, she glanced up at him, and giggled softly.

“What is it?” he asked, dark brows pinching together.

Still laughing, she said, “You’re so tall!”

Hades’ mouth quirked a little and he said, “Perhaps it is you who are small, my lady?”

She only laughed more at that and then gasped as she sensed a little bird peeking curiously at them from the hedgerow which bordered the cornfield. Darting off, she scooped up the little sparrow, who was only too happy to be cuddled by the goddess, and returned to Hades with it. He shrank back as she thrust it out to him, and the bird stared up at him as if he were a cat who’d found its nest.

“Oh dear,” she sighed, turning and releasing the bird to the sky. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologise,” he said, shaking his head. “The creatures who live up here fear my coming. It is only natural, I suppose.”

“But they don’t have to,” she said. “Don’t you have birds in the underworld?”

“We do,” he said, “But they are not so pretty as that one. Nothing is quite the same down there as it was in life.”

“What’s it really like?” she asked as she released the bird back to its nest. “My mother has tried to paint a picture of rotting corpses piled up on the sides of a festering river, and grave worms crawling everywhere, but I can’t believe it’s really like that.”

Hades paused, sweat glistening visibly at his temples in the strong sunlight, and he sighed. “No, it isn’t like that at all. It…” he glanced around at the rolling hillsides and the rich colours of the valley and said, “It isn’t a friendly place,” he said. “Not like this. There are no fields of corn and bright trees blossoming. The walls are black rock, studded with gems and veins of minerals, and the River Styx glows softly at night as it flows towards the Asphodel Meadows and Elysium.”

He tucked a strand of his black hair behind his ear and went on without looking at her. His silver eyes fixed on an indeterminate point on the horizon and he said, “I built the palace out of the obsidian of the earth, and it mirrors the great palace on Olympus, but it has none of the sunlight. Flames and glowing gems give light, and the plants which grow down there are miserable, stunted things; twisted and blackened, or ghostly white and lacking sunlight.”

“It sounds… strangely peaceful,” she said, which obviously surprised Hades greatly. “I mean… there’s always noise up here. Even the grasses make a cacophony of their own if you don’t ignore it…”

“That’s… That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose,” he said.

She couldn’t help noticing as they made their way through the verdant copse that his footsteps grew slower and more uncertain, and his already stooped back started to bend a little more at the shoulders.

“My lord?” she asked hesitantly as they paused beside the stream and he eased his slight weight down onto a river boulder.

“Forgive me,” he laughed dryly, staring at the water as it slid by. “The rigours of the living world have already begun to take their toll on me.”

“We should go back,” she said, waving her hand and opening a portal right in front of the house.

“A moment longer?” he asked, and she smiled to see the pleading softness at the corners of his moon-silver eyes.

With a smile, she slid off her sandals and began to paddle in the stream. Stooping, she fished out a perfectly smooth pebble and grinned at him. “It’s like an egg.”

“Here…” he said, holding out his pale, trembling hand, and she placed it into his palm, curiosity alight in her warm eyes. “Let’s see what it hatches.”

The earth answered his magic as surely as if he were in his own kingdom, and the surface of the stone cracked as though something were indeed hatching from it. A moment later, he had manipulated it into a tiny stone gryphon. It flapped its wings and circled Kore’s head twice before diving back into the river to become the stone it had always been.

Delighted, Kore clapped her hands and laughed, and all around her, little white water-weed flowers burst into blossom in the river. Hades’ eyes glistened brightly and he blinked rapidly before standing and hoisting the hem of his himation out of the way of the damp stones. “Come,” he said. “We should return.”

He held out his arm to her and she gladly took it, marvelling again at the coolness of his skin, though she couldn’t help the flaring worry at the protruding bones of his knuckles and wrist. His fingers twitched self-consciously under her scrutiny, but he did not withdraw the offer of his arm from her.

Demeter was waiting for them when they returned, and her scowl deepened as Kore entered the house on Hades’ arm. She waved the pair to their seats and served Hades a strong red wine before filling Kore’s cup with a fragrant elderflower cordial. The younger goddess pursed her lips but made no other comment at the patronising gesture.

The food was sumptuous, and as they ate, Kore asked Hades to tell them about the horses he kept and about the palace he had built. When he mentioned that his realm was guarded by a monstrous three-headed dog which kept all mortal souls from entering, she immediately began to coo and question him about the creature.

Laughing, though the merriment in his eyes was tempered with what was clearly a stab of pain, Hades told her of Cerberus, and how he was larger than almost any creature on earth, save for perhaps an elephant.

“But are they three different dogs in the body of one?” she asked, “Or are they one dog split over three heads?”

He shrugged. “More of the latter. Each head has a different personality, but they all respond as one.”

“I’d love to meet them,” she giggled.

“Hades,” Demeter interjected, shoving a plate of freshly seared trout at him. “Please, do have some more. And what do you think of the eliopsomo? Kore spent all morning baking…”

The god of the dead forced a smile and glanced down at his plate. He had hardly eaten anything at all, despite the feast that they had prepared for him, and he shook his head. “Alas, Lady Demeter, I cannot. I’m sure you understand…” he said with feeling, though the meaning of it once again passed Kore by. “You have clearly both worked very hard, and I am greatly honoured. Thank you.”

Kore inhaled softly, feeling more than a little crushed, but when she saw the way he chewed as if he were grinding bone meal between his teeth, she frowned. “My lord? Is it not to your taste?”

“It’s beautiful,” he said, staring at the display on the table. “I am unable to do it justice though. Please, forgive me.”

After that, the mood turned a little cloudy, and it wasn’t long before Hades had stood and excused himself, regretfully announcing that he had duties in the underworld to which he must return.

Kore nodded and stood too, pushing her stool back and crossing to the front door to let in a stream of sunlight. The hem of Hades’ himation smoked softly as he stood there and regarded her. “Thank you,” he said. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you for today. I hope I have not trespassed too long on your hospitality.”

“Not at all,” Kore smiled, though the look on her mother’s face said that she disagreed with the sentiment.

As they walked out of the door, Hades opened a portal to his home, and Kore stared into it, aghast. Instantly, Hades looked as though he regretted showing her even the slightest glimpse of the underworld, but he was hardly about to close it up and walk all the way to the end of the road just to spare her the sight of it.

“Thank you again,” he said to her as they stood outside while Demeter remained indoors, watching them with the intensity of an osprey. “And if there is ever any service I can offer you, any favour, all you have to do is pray to me. I will hear you, and I will answer you.”

Her eyes sparkled and she nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”

And with that, he nodded once more at Demeter and turned to step into the portal.

Broiling darkness swallowed his tall, skeletal figure instantly, and the doorway to the underworld rippled shut behind him before she could take in too much of the view. Glinting crystals and shimmering black walls like polished glass lingered in her memory as she returned to the cottage to find that Demeter had whisked away the debris from dinner with a single wave of her hand, including all of the floral garlands. It was as if the Lord of the Dead had never set foot in their house at all, save for perhaps the slightly cooler temperature inside.

However, as Kore turned to go to her room, she glimpsed the delicate white petals of a single asphodel blossom on the floor beneath her chair, the red lines which ran up the centre of each petal looking like a single scribed line of blood. While her mother’s back was turned, she stooped and carried the precious flower upstairs, setting it beneath her pillow to keep it safe.

  
  



	5. Underworld Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades returns to the Underworld and deals with the aftermath of being in the sunlight, in a realm no longer made for him, and eating food grown in the sunlight... While Hephaestus is Persephone's bff, Hecate is Hades'...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your amazing feedback on this! I had no idea it would garner so many positive responses! 
> 
> Also, a quick note that there's obviously the thing that Persephone can't eat the food grown in the Underworld without it binding her to the place (the old pomegranate myth), so I switched things around and had Hades not be able to eat things grown in the sunlight either without it making him sick. 
> 
> This is a short chapter, but hopefully you enjoy it all the same!
> 
> Warning: vomiting

Hades staggered as the portal closed behind him and he lurched, clutching the slick walls of the tunnel as his stomach heaved. Retching, he bent nearly double, and spewed up a spray of ash and sand. The food, grown in the sunlight of the world above, had turned to silt in his mouth, and he’d been unable to taste anything beyond the acrid, burning bitterness of it as he’d tried to swallow, to hide it from Persephone who had gone to such lengths on his behalf.

Demeter, Furies curse her, had known what it would do to him, and she had not seen fit to inform her daughter, leaving Hades with little choice but to eat it and suffer, or risk crushing her spirits and enthusiasm.

The walls of the underworld blurred and shook slightly as he swayed, still vomiting.

“My lord?” a soft, female voice crooned. “You’ve returned. Oh Hades,” she said tenderly, stepping closer when she saw the state of the oldest of the gods. “Here…” and a goblet of ambrosia was held out to him in the gentle hands of his dear friend. For the goddess of witchcraft, such a feat was as easy as breathing.

“Hecate,” he croaked, spitting and retching again. “Please…”

“You need your strength,” she insisted. “The underworld will crumble around you if you continue to work yourself to the bone. When was the last time you made more than a mere moment to eat? You have to sustain yourself. You work too hard.”

“The underworld is mine to rule, Hecate. I must -” Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off by a final heave of his stomach as he spat greying ash onto the floor and she stepped back to protect the hem of her long peplos.

“Just drink it,” she said flatly, and he took the goblet with a weak smile.

“Thank you,” he croaked, sipping the liquid and swilling his mouth out before draining the cup. Hecate refilled it with her magic and he drank again, feeling restored.

“Where have you been?” she asked as Hades straightened and took a deep, steadying breath, starting down the passageway towards the palace. “It’s unlike you to leave things in the hands of your judges these days…”

“There are too many souls,” he countered. “I can’t afford to leave-”

“And yet today you did,” she pointed out, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me someone in the world above has caught your eye, Aidon!” she laughed, using his familiar name and clearly enjoying the delicious thought of scandal.

He rolled his eyes. “I was merely being polite.”

Hecate’s violet eyes widened and she cackled a very undignified laugh. “My lord,” she said, “You, in all the long years we have been friends, have never ‘merely been polite’ to those above… Non-confrontational, yes, but you’d never just abandon the Underworld for an afternoon to be ‘merely polite’… Tell me the real reason or I’ll turn your beloved Cerberus into a three-headed slug for the rest of the day…”

Hades shook his head and smiled, knowing her threat was empty. At the movement of his head, Hecate noticed the braids in his long hair, and plucked childishly at them. When she refused to let the matter drop, he relented and said, “I was invited to eat with Persephone and Demeter.”

“You ate?” she gasped, stopping Adan gaping openly at him. “You ate mortal food? No wonder you’re so sick, you moron!”

Hades smiled very slightly and whispered, “It was worth it to see her, Hecate.”

“Demeter?” she scoffed, knowing the history between the two of them.

He shook his head. “Persephone.” Her name on his lips was like a prayer and he shivered suddenly as warmth spread down his back like the sun between the trees.  _ Persephone _ .

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Remember that you can find me at @monstersandmaw. Come say hi if you like!


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